Fairytale
by Ros3bud009
Summary: She wanted some valiant hero to wonder into her life, slay the evil Prussia, and swear to protect her from any and all other nations. Mangary/fem!Austria, Genderbending


With a huge wave of emotions, her fingers raced up and down the piano keys, hitting them just the right way to have the instrument boom with the volume of the notes but still hold their pure sound, their full intensity. It was not just like any other song played on the piano. These notes screamed, they moaned, they cursed, and they were out for blood. They would reverberate around the room, threatening to sneak up behind the unsuspecting and slice right through them like an axe through a soldier. They gave battle cries so low and deep they would bounce around inside a person's ribcage. They shrieked at such high pitches they were like arrows piercing through the eardrum.

She knew perfectly well how that horror of a man thought this habit of hers was a silly exercise, but that was only because he did not understand the notes. Prussia did not know they were out for _his _blood.

Finally a scream of frustration escaped from her lips and her fingers gave into pure rage, slamming against the keys. The piano cried in response, making a noise as if it were dying. Almost instantly she pitied the poor, undeserving instrument, and silently promised to get it nicely tuned the next day.

Austria withdrew her hands from the keys and folded them into her lap, not feeling the least bit better.

Everything was, quite simply, horrendous. It felt like she had been battling against that lewd pig of a nation for the entirety of her life, _losing _of all things, and yet somehow Austria could remember a time when she was _happy_.

Which really just made the whole thing all the more tragic.

Sometimes Austria just wished that everything would fix itself. She wished that Prussia would stop being an ass about politics _and _in attempting to deflower her. The mere thought of that brute taking her maidenly chastity was enough to make her want to vomit. So it was all the worse when he would lean in far too close to her; tauntingly caress her in the middle of their sword fights; leer at her in such a way that she could see straight into his mind and see all that he was thinking of doing to her.

In fact, it would be lovely if the bastard would just go die in a fire. Slowly.

And she equally wished that all this political warfare would settle down. Austria was tired of wars. Tired of fighting. Tired of all this violence and blood and gore. All she wanted was to be left to play beautiful things on her instruments; attend big, sophisticated balls; dance the waltz long into the night with a tall, strong gentleman.

Austria could not help but scoff at her own thoughts. It was like some ridiculous fairytale. But girls want what they want she supposed.

Essentially all Austria wanted was to no longer have all these responsibilities, all these hardships and troubles. She wanted some valiant hero to wonder into her life, slay the evil Prussia, and swear to protect her from any and all other nations. He would then swear his allegiance to her, go down on one knee and ask for her hand in marriage, and off they would go on his white horse to a huge mansion on a beautiful hillside, lay her lovingly on the softest and most luxurious of beds, and by the light of candles she would give him her long-held chastity, because he _loved _her and she him…

Becoming almost intolerably hot, Austria knew her face was flushed by her thoughts, and the embarrassment only worsened the problem. That was certainly no way a fine, upstanding young woman such as her to think. Such, well, _perverse _thoughts were so very… _perverse_.

It was only made all the worse when the hero in her mind's eye would take the form of her childhood friend.

Austria glanced up from her lap and again looked at her grand piano. Before she could truly even comprehend it, her hands were on the keys again, caressing them as if to ask for forgiveness for her earlier attack. The song was solemn and, frankly, sad. The chords were like sorrowful tears cascading down sullied cheeks. But the rhythm was steady, continuing forward, never allowing the minor cords to hold it back. The notes grew louder, and with melody's crescendo the notes rose from their minor stance to build into strong, solid walls of major chords. The chorus of pitches seemed to wrap themselves around her, and a small smile settled on her lips.

As any song that crescendos in the middle must however, it began to decrescendo. The emotional high gave way to reality, and as she played the last few trills and triplets, the slow beat was still there, steady and ever pervasive.

Finally, that beat was all that was left. The song ended on the beat and the fairytale was broken.

Austria sighed as she blinked open her eyes again and looked at nothing.

"That was beautiful."

The musician practically leapt out of her skin, curling her legs up towards her chest and making a noise she would later deny being a squeak as she snapped her eyes towards the door. Of course she had known who it was. Austria would never mistake that voice for any other. But that almost made it all the more terrifying.

"H-Hungary?!" she stammered, swallowing as she took in the sight of the young man. Hungary was grinning, but not in any sort of mean-spirited way. He merely looked as if he were watching something he thought was cute. This thought would have made Austria blush all the darker were she not already at her limit of blood rushing to her face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Hungary replied, straightening up from where he had leaned against the doorframe. "I know that when you are really into a piece, you don't like to be interrupted, so I thought I'd wait until you finished. I hope you don't mind that I listened in?"

Austria blinked and found her hands clutching at her dress as she looked away. "A-ah, no, that is quite considerate of you. I am sorry I startle so easily." She felt her chest grow warm as she heard a soft chuckle emanate from her friend's lips.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he assured her. "It's cute."

Well, perhaps her face could get hotter.

"I-I th-think you m-mean 'for which to b-be sorry,'" Austria stammered, cursing her clumsy tongue and her inability to make decent chitchat. This was ridiculous! This was just Hungary after all. They had been friends for ages; why should her heart race so when all he was doing was standing there?

When had her body started to betray her like this?

Hungary grinned and shook his head. "Sorry, Austria. I suppose I've been around the troops for so long that I've forgotten how to speak well." The fact that he had been out fighting was more than apparent. He still wore some of his uniform, his leather vest tight across his broad chest and his strong upper arms bare. And his thighs were more than apparent in dark skin-tight leggings. As he moved to stand closer to her, his scent brushed past her nose and she felt a shudder race through her.

This body of hers was about to have a mutiny, and she wasn't even sure if she could deny it the right.

But for as long as she could, Austria would fight to keep it in check. "We both know that you've been talking like a brute ever since we were young," she pointed out, deciding to stop the temptation where it started and facing the piano yet again, her fingers posed above the keys. But no notes came to mind.

"And you've always talked like a sophisticated young lady," Hungary joked, coming to a stop right behind her. They were silent for a moment, so that all Austria could hear was her own heart racing, when he spoke again. "Are you alright, Austria?"

Her heart leapt into her throat. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Hungary blinked down at her. "Well, when I was walking up to your house, I could hear you playing, and you didn't sound… happy."

Austria bit her lip, and her fingers twitched over the keys. "You… you heard that?" Hungary made a confirming noise. With a sigh she replied, "Do I even have to tell you what would upset me?"

She could practically hear Hungary grit his teeth as he moaned, "_Him_?"

"Who else?"

"The bastard," Hungary cursed, and Austria started when she heard the sword at his side shift as the handle of it was grasped. "I swear, if that son of a bitch ever does anything to you, I would chase him to the ends of the world if I had to. If he were here, why, I would take this sword to his gut--"

"_Hungary_," Austria interrupted, and she couldn't help almost laughing under her breath. "You _would _have to chase him to the ends of the world. He's been avoiding you ever since that incident in the kitchen."

"And rightfully so!" Hungary insisted, dropping his hand onto her shoulder. "Prussia was trying to deflower you right before my eyes! He's just lucky that I didn't have my sword and had to settle for a frying pan."

Austria supposed that normally she should have been giddy at the memory of the pained look on Prussia's face when he was hit with said frying pan. However, her mind seemed to be stuck on the large hand on her shoulder and the idea of Hungary being so enraged about her being deflowered. And, well, just all those combined with the idea of being deflowered.

Her hands curled above the keys, but she didn't dare remove them, nor look anywhere else but the strings and beautiful wood before her.

"You always were the hero type," she murmured, and felt her face flush as the words left her. Hungary didn't reply right away, but instead slowly leaned down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I will always protect you, Austria. I would gladly be your hero."

"H-Hungary!" Austria practically shrieked, her heart now taking up the task of getting into a battle with her ribcage. Her face was flushed and her stomach was rolling and she was just so _hot._ She felt his heated breath caress her cheek as he laughed, squeezing her just a little tighter before relaxing again.

"Really Austria, I hope you never lighten up. You're just so adorable when you're all flustered!"

Austria grumbled about that, but refused to answer him when he inquired teasingly, refused to move so much as an inch. She was certain that if she allowed her body even the opportunity to move, it would betray her in the most perverse of ways.

Eventually Hungary sighed in defeat and just stood there, leaning against her, and his smell was so pervasive that Austria thought she could taste it on her tongue.

"So, what was the second song about?" Austria swallowed slowly, and suddenly all the emotions of it were flowing back into her. The steady beat, the great crescendo growing out from minor chords, the euphoric climax.

"How many times have I told you, Hungary? Art is in the eye of the beholder." Austria's fingers uncurled and softly caressed the keys. Her mutinous imagination wondered how his skin would feel under them. "What do _you _think it was about?"

"Hmm? You going to let this 'brute' try to interpret music?" Hungary teased. When Austria refused to give into his taunting he sighed. "Alright, well, it started off sad sounding, so I assume you were feeling sad?"

Austria couldn't think straight enough to even come up with a retort that that obvious statement.

"But then you were becoming happier, like you were escaping from the sad stuff, and looked… beautiful," he murmured, and if Austria had had the bravery to look at him, she might have seen him blush.

"Fairytale," she stammered, and the pads of her fingers slipped down pass the keys to rest on the wood in which they were laid, grasping it like a lifeline. "It was about escaping into a fairytale."

"Then why did you leave it?" Hungary's voice was getting quieter, and Austria almost didn't hear him over the blood rushing in her ears. "You looked so happy."

"Because fairytales are just that," Austria muttered, and suddenly all she wanted was for Hungary to go away and leave her alone, to leave her in her pit of despair. This was cruel. The song had ended, that moment of joy was gone, how dare he—"They are just fairytales! They won't come true, so why bother hoping?"

"Austria…" Hungary murmured, and suddenly Austria felt herself moving, her shoulders still gripped in one arm while the other was hooked behind her knees to spin her on the bench and settle her down again, now facing him. And dear Lord there he was, hands on her shoulders, leaning over her so that his face was only a foot away, if even that, and there were no keys to touch, no instrument to send her emotions through, nothing. It was just her and Hungary and she knew she was losing the battle faster than ever.

Hungary lifted a hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her soft skin. "When you were playing that song, when you reached the height of it, the most beautiful thing was not the music, but your smile. And I would do anything, anything in all the world to make sure it never leaves your lips. Please, tell me," he asked, shifting forward, his forehead touching Austria's, "how can I keep your fairytale alive?"

Austria blinked back tears, and before she could do so much as consider her answer, she whispered so softly and hesitantly it was almost just a ghost of breath against his lips, "Love me."

There is no telling who moved first, or if they moved in unison, but whatever happened in that blur resulted in Hungary's lips claiming Austria's, whose arms were wound around his shoulders and neck, ripping out the hair ribbon to release his wild mane of hair, and his hands held her tightly, moving up and down her back and waist, threading through her own hair, and as she moaned Hungary delved into her mouth and _it was wonderful._

Hungary moved in closer, resting a knee on the bench between her legs and pushing her back against the keys. Austria had to pull a hand away from him to support herself against it, gasping as his knee shifted to the side, forcing her thigh up his leg. She unconsciously hooked her leg around it. Their kiss was hot and wet, and unlike anything Austria would have ever imagined. Even as he pulled away, kissing his face, her neck, her ears, it felt just as intimate. And then his hand was on her breast, and no matter how loudly the prim, proper lady in her bemoaned it, it was drowned out by Austria's own great groan of pleasure, arching up into the touch.

Desperately her hand traversed Hungary's broad back, touching and feeling and digging her nails into it. Finally her other hand gave up its duty and reached up to grab his upper arm, and it was more than worth the wood digging into her back. Hungary's chest was hard to the touch, and Austria could follow the definition of his abs through his shirt. And then her journey across his body was brought to an end as he shifted forward again, and they were nearly flush up against each other, his hips settled between her thighs and her chest crushed under his and their lips desperately meshing together.

And then Hungary slowed down until he finally pulled his lips away from her mouth, looking down at her. He looked almost pensive.

"Hungary?" Austria murmured worriedly. This seemed to pull Hungary from his thoughts as he smiled a bit and leaned his forehead against hers.

"No, it's nothing to worry about. Just…" He swallowed roughly before looking at her with concern. "I don't want to, well, take this further than you want to go. I would hate to take something from you that you didn't want to give."

Austria's face turned a deep red and she glanced away quickly. Hungary grinned. "What? Is that permission, my dear maiden?"

"Th-that is quite enough," Austria stammered, looking up and scowling at him. "What sort of lady do you take me for?"

"Well, with you pressed against your piano moaning my name, it's quite hard to say--"

"H-Hungary!" she squeaked, and he chuckled.

"You know I just like to tease," he said, kissing her nose. Austria continued to glower at him.

"Well, if there is one thing I could call you right now, tease would certainly be it." With a sigh she leaned her head back, biting her lips when Hungary softly kissed her neck. Finally she took a deep breath and, looking up at the ceiling, said, "Well, I suppose we will have to marry then."

The kisses ceased, and Austria felt her heart sink. However, when she looked down, Hungary did not look astonished or even appalled, but rather was grinning at her. "Really? The great Austria, sophisticated lady of all sophisticated ladies, is asking this brute to marry her?"

Austria spluttered. "I-I just said we would have to be wed if you wanted to go so far. I don't recall proposing. I mean really, what sort of woman would do that--"

"Austria?" Hungary kissed her mouth softly, sucking on her bottom lip. When he pulled away, he smiled. "You said it yourself. For your fairytale to exist, I need to love you, right? Well, I already do." He couldn't help smiling at the way Austria flushed. But still he continued, "So to prove it, let me marry you. Let me be by your side."

"And let you take my maidenly chastity?" Austria said sarcastically, but it lost any bite it could have had with the shudder in her voice. Hungary's grin widened.

"Well, there's always that." Hungary nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, holding her close. For the first time, his voice came out shy, tentative. "So can I? Can I marry you?"

Austria flushed, mumbling for a moment something about how it's may, not can, but finally wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close.

"Would you marry me?"

"I'd do it right now if I could."

"Alright then," Austria laughed, twirling some of his hair around her finger. She knew that within the half hour she would be in a tizzy, racing around making plans and talking to the necessary people and half the time question how this whole thing had ever happened. She would ridicule herself for being weak, for giving into silly, girlish ideas, and even doubt if it was the right thing to do.

But Austria knew that just a word, a look, and glance and she would fall in love with the man all over again.

"Then let's get married."


End file.
